Caring is Not an Advantage
by Luna-2015
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is the World's only consulting dectective. He lives alone until an Omega slave is thrust into his life. Warnings: Slavery, Violence, Language, future Mpreg


**Sherlock**

**Title: ****Caring is Not an Advantage.**

**Chapter 1: The Deal**

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AN - Warning: Slavery, Violence, Language, future Mpreg

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_**Holmes Manor**_

Sherlock drudgingly dragged himself through the magnificent halls of his brother's home.

It was a dark night; Full moon and cold enough to confuse the time of death for any coroner. He was sure that out there, someone was committing a crime interesting enough to hold his attention, or at least exciting enough to alleviate his boredom.

'Damn Mycroft!' Sherlock thought, why couldn't Mycroft just leave him to his life. Despite his brother's claim that he was worried for him, Sherlock regarded this concern was little more than unnecessary prying.

His brother had somehow persuaded Lestrade to prevent him from getting information from, or lending assistance to the police. His first thought was money, but that might not have the reason. Mycroft had too much power to be so predictable. He had most likely influenced someone far above Lestrade.

The police always found the most interesting cases, well, if they had to ask him to help he could often derive enough entertainment from solving these cases to starve-off his boredom if only for a while.

Normally he had clients which sought him out, but lately had hadn't had a single case. Not even those extremely boring ones which involved cheating lovers, missing pets or some other matter unworthy of his time or intellect.

Perhaps things were just slow in the private investigation department, but He knew that the police were actively working on cases. He had watched them enough at a distance to know they needed help.

He knew his brother was the reason as Mycroft as soon he started receiving e-mails and texts to meet with him. Not the occasional ones which Sherlock normally just ignored, but many times a day. Then he started sending his minions to pass on the message and later to collect him to bring him to Mycroft's estate.

After weeks of boredom, Sherlock decided to take that trip to his older brother's home to find out what had been so important to Mycroft.

He was shown inside a fireplace lit sitting room by the long time butler.

"I'm glad you decided to come. I was starting to wonder." Mycroft spoke to him from a high-back posh chair next to the fireplace.

"You just can't let me live my life can you?" Sherlock retorted.

"Can I get you a drink?" Mycroft offered. "Myfanwy!" he shouted over to a dark corner. "Get us both a both a glass of scotch."

Sherlock was surprised to see something, no someone, move out of the corner and toward the bar. It was too dark to gather any visual details, but judging by the sound of the feet hitting the foot this person was barefoot and by the uneven walk, they had some type of limp. A cane too by the sound. Wood. He could also estimate this person was heavy enough to be an adult, but meek enough to deliberately walk quietly.

The person brought the drinks over. As they came into the fire light Sherlock could see that it was a he. Dressed in a simple drawstring pants and a baggy T-shirt. On his neck, a collar. Black with some sort of dog tag attached. Fashion? Fetish? or something else? Not enough data to make a conclusion. Sherlock continued to make his observations.

He was small, but rather wider in the shoulders and Sherlock noticed in the hips as well. His hair was a sandy blond and as for the eyes, Sherlock could not tell as they were permanently diverted clearly avoiding eye contact.

He served Sherlock first. Then he retrieved Mycroft's.

Unexpectedly Mycroft backhanded the man. "You forgot the ice cubes."

Sherlock watched as the man held his face where he was hit and quickly apologized, informed his brother that the ice cube tray was empty, then vowing to get some more from the kitchen.

Based on what he had observed Sherlock could conclude that this person was probably not a mistreated minion. This was a slave.

Slavery had been abolished for many years in Britain, but the economics of the country had changed that. With growing citizen debts, came people falling back on bankruptcy. Too many were doing that forcing the government to revive a long dead institution: debtor's prison.

The idea had been generations ago that once someone found themselves in there, the relatives had to pay their debts or they would be left there to rot.

When this new law came into effect the prison started to fill up quickly. Some of the relatives were able to pay their family member's debts, but most weren't. This caused an entirely new problem. They had all these people in prison who weren't going anywhere and more coming every month.

The solution: Slavery. It wasn't a popular idea. There were protests by various human rights groups, but as these people were technically prisoners they were considered to no longer have any rights given to free law abiding individuals.

"How long have you had Myfanwy?"

"Just over five year."

Sherlock took a sip of his drink. Undrinkable without the ice cubes, Mycroft set his drink on a table beside him.

"Sherlock I called you here for a serious matter. A family matter. As the elder brother these duties fall on me for a number of matters, but I find myself in a difficult situation. It seems that one family Duty must be delegated to you." Mycroft leaned forward and held his hands together. It looked like a prayer. Coming from Mycroft such an act of asking for...really ASKING, anything was next to a miracle.

"Which 'family duty' are you referring to?"

"You're really going to make me explain aren't you? It's the only one not yet fulfilled." Mycroft lowered his head. "I have been trying to produce children to continue our family line. There has been no success. I visited a doctor. It seems that the matter of my fertility is a great deal graver than I believed. I am theoretically able to father children, but the likelihood is so small that the doctor's have classified me as virtually infertile."

"I'm afraid you need to be clearer, Mycroft. Are you suggesting I find a wife and have children to compensate for your sperm's inviability?" Sherlock noted a cringe from Mycroft, but ignored it.

"Not exactly. I have been trying to father children for over five years without any results with-"

"Myfanwy." Five years. It was as long as Mycroft owned the slave.

"Yes. He is an omega. I bought him for that very reason. Can you not smell him?"

"Are you certain that he is not the problem?" Usually a slave would be blamed for fertility issues.

"No...He had a child very early in his life. "

"You are proposing that I assume your previous attempts to breed him?"

Mycroft closed his eyes as if enduring some pain. His wounded pride? "Yes."

The door opened Myfanwy entered the room depositing the ice into the small freezer before bringing over the ice for Mycroft's drink.

"Sit at my feet." His brother commanded. The slave obeyed. His eyes remained averted.

"What have I done to make you believe that I want children. Small feet pitter-pattering all through my flat. Braking things. Disturbing my peace. I prefer my solitude or haven't your spies told you."

"I would not require you to raise the children, only to produce them."

"So you want my sperm? Well you can't. I insist that you call off your dogs and leave me alone."

"It doesn't work that way. As an Omega he is only fertile during his heats and he requires... the...assistance of his sexual partner to become pregnant."

"Of course. I'm not surprised that you could find a omega."

"It wasn't easy. Gone are the days when omegas were registered and distributed." Mycroft took a sip of his drink.

"Sold. Or married off for the highest 'bride price'."

"Essentially yes. As my brother you are responsible to provide the family with heirs."

"As I said. I refuse and unless you intend on dragging me back here when the slave goes into heat and impaling him on me, your efforts are useless."

"I'm not doing this because I hate you, Sherlock. I have tried for five years! Look at the slave!" Sherlock turned his attention to the slave sitting on the floor at Mycroft's feet. He was perhaps mid-to late 30's in age.

"He was not available to the market until I got him. He's probably started his decline in fertility. After five years without success I can't risk his fertility expiring."

"Well, that's not my problem. I say again call off your minions. I will eventually find a way around your efforts regardless. You know I will." Sherlock rose from the chair. "Please do not call again."

Sherlock turned and adjusted his scarf.

"Do you really think that you have seen the full extent of my influence? Sure you will figure out a detour, but I'm sure you will miss those nicotine patches."

Sherlock turned to face Mycroft. "What do you mean?"

"Well Sherlock. If you leave now without agreeing to my terms, I'm afraid there is going to be a severe nicotine patch shortage which will unfortunately stretch far and wide. Shame really."

Sherlock's eyes shifted. He wouldn't. "Even you can't do that."

"There is no limits to the things I can do."

"Just out of curiosity what are these terms."

Mycroft grinned. "He will live with you. When he goes into heat you will breed him. Upon confirmation of pregnancy he will return to me. You brother, can then return to your care-free life free of any responsibility toward the slave and any offspring."

"Child. Offspring is plural."

"Yes. Plural. Children. If our parents had stopped at me our family line would have no potential to continue. No Sherlock. You must impregnate the slave at least twice. Boys. Girls are sweet, but we need male heirs more desperately. Three would be better, but I will limit our deal to only two."

"I have never tried to produce children. I do not know my fertility potential."

Mycroft looked Sherlock in the eye. "I will take that risk. Do we have an accord?"

Sherlock's eyes were shifting it in numerous directions. He was thinking. Weighting the benefits against the costs.

Mycroft took a sip of his drink

"Yes. I agree."

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END of Ch

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AN: This is AU

Takes place in the Omega-verse (with some creative licence of my own)

Slavery exists

Omega males can get pregnant, but not impregnate.

Alpha, Beta and Omega females can before pregnant, but not impregnate another.

Alpha and Beta Males can impregnate any fertile female, though only the omegas (Male and female) have a heat cycles.

Omegas have made strides in Equal rights, but are still regarded by many as less than human.

Primary Gender: male/female; Secondary Gender Alpha/Beta/Omega

All the Genders both primary and secondary have scents, with strengths corresponding to their fertility. There are drugs to suppress the production and perception of these scents

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Preview of the next chapter: Sold

"I don't need a doctor I need Heirs." The umbrella man said coolly. "I need one which can breed. If you do not have one I'm sure that someone else will."

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End file.
